


Proving Grounds

by Red_Tigress



Category: Mission: Impossible, Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Benji-centric, Benji-whump, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, SPOILERS FOR FALLOUT, some depictions of injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-30 21:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15760335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Tigress/pseuds/Red_Tigress
Summary: After the events of Fallout, Benji takes a solo mission to prove to himself he's still up to the task.





	Proving Grounds

Benji Dunn was sweating under the mask he was wearing. He cleared his throat, giving himself a moment before he spoke in a voice not his own. He considered himself pretty good at this, he had a natural knack for the acting involved. But today he was on edge. He had felt on edge since Soloman Lane had now targeted him purposefully and intimately not just once but twice.

  
The man standing in front of him was still waiting.

  
He cleared his throat again, and a thick, German-accented voice came out. “There is something I’ve forgotten in my office. See that I am not disturbed.” The voice came out far less-shaky than he was anticipating. It seemed to be good enough for the guard, because he stepped slightly aside as he let Benji pass.

  
Benji heaved a sigh of relief when the door was shut behind him. He didn’t have much time, and he was here alone, without backup. Since Hunley’s death, the IMF had been spread thin. Normally Benji would have waited for one of Ethan’s missions to be up, but Benji had hurried to take a solo mission without him.

  
Benji knew he was a good agent. That much was evidenced by the fact he was here now, impersonating a German warlord, downloading his encrypted contact files off his personal computer. Benji was able to easily get past the encryption with minutes to spare. Werner himself would still be unconscious in the men’s room downstairs, something Benji had insured with a simple short needle to the neck as he lay him down and copied his face.

  
It was all things Benji had done dozens of times before.

  
But with other people.

  
With Ethan.

  
He paused for a moment.

  
What was he trying to prove out here, alone? That he was a good agent? Or that Ethan Hunt wasn’t his crutch?

  
His thoughts were interrupted by noises outside the door. He paused, listening to the startled German. There was a shout, and he realized with a start, it was Werner’s voice. He shouldn’t have been awake yet.

  
The computer beeped with a message it had finished the download, and Benji had just enough time to yank the USB drive out of the laptop before the doors were kicked inwards.

  
He pulled out his gun, but Werner was a fast bastard and dove forwards catching him off guard. His shot went wide as Werner slammed into him. A moment of disorientation, before the heel of Werner’s hand slammed upwards into his nose and there was a loud crack as pain exploded across his face.

  
He spun away, but there was so much pain, and so much blood, and he couldn’t breathe. He tore the mask away, gasping and sputtering. He got a brief breath of cool air, the only sensation he could feel beyond hot and sticky blood coating his face and sharp pain radiating out from his nose and across his cheekbones.

  
He wheezed, spinning away again and breathing heavily though his mouth as Werner followed up with a jab that missed him as he darted out of the way. It was a feint, however, and Werner’s other hand grabbed his arm and pulled him to the floor. The breath left him in a whoosh as Werner though his body weight on top of him.

  
“Who are you?” he hissed.

  
Instead of answering, Benji wriggled one arm free and slammed his elbow backwards. He didn’t hit anything vital, but it was enough to make Wener stagger and Benji was able to roll away from under him. Blood was still flowing thick into Benji’s mouth and down his throat, choking him and making him gasp. He got to his knees and felt something hit him, _hard_ , in his lower back. He tumbled forward, but scrambled up again. Werner was still on the ground, but the guy who had been guarding the door was now in here too.

  
He patted his chest once to make sure the USB drive was still in there. It was, but the whole point of the mission was not to get made and now that was out the window.

  
Benji frantically looked for his gun, and saw a glint of reflected light under the desk. He dove for it, but the door guy jumped on him as he did so. Benji tried to turn his face away, but he was too slow and took another punch right in his broken nose. Pain flared again, worse than before, and the world went white. Somebody screamed. It was probably him. He was lying on the floor now, but he saw door guy reaching for the gun. The other man was off balance, leaning down on one knee to try and grab it. Benji wrapped a bloody hand around his ankle and gave a savage yank. The man fell down on top of him and Benji grunted as he planted an uppercut right on his chin, knocking him back.

  
The man shouted, and Benji hit him again. And again. He saw the other man’s eyes roll back in his head and he felt more and more of his weight pressing down on him. He started to shove him off, but he’d forgotten about Werner.

  
Werner tore Benji away from the door guard. Benji kicked out at him, but felt something sharp plunge into his thigh. He shouted in pain and kicked out with his other leg, trying to get Werner away. His foot made contact and the other man grunted and stumbled, letting him go. Benji spared a glance at his right thigh which was _burning_ , and groaned as he saw the hilt of a knife sticking out.

  
He pulled himself sluggishly over the body of the door guard who was starting to get to his knees again, and his fingers wrapped around the hilt of his gun.

  
He took it and scrambled away across the floor. The door guard lunged after him, but he fired. The bullet took the other man almost point blank in the shoulder and he fell on the floor moaning.

  
Still partially sitting on the floor, Benji used one arm to pull himself away and the other held his gun pointed at the two men. The one he had shot seemed down, but the gunshot would soon alert others. Werner himself was scowling and Benji had half a mind to shoot him in the face, but his instructions had been explicit in keeping the other man alive. The IMF needed to keep following his trail to larger fish.

  
Of course, it all seemed irrelevant, now.

  
“You can’t run,” Werner hissed at him.

  
Benji spat out a mouthful of blood. “Maybe not, but you can’t follow me either.” He fired his gun.

  
His aim was pretty true, and the bullet took the other man in the leg, dropping him. Almost in the exact same place he had stabbed Benji.  
Benji struggled to his feet, his right leg held out stiffly. His whole leg was warm with blood and he almost bit through his lip as the pain spiked when he pulled himself upright. With trembling fingers he reached down and wrapped his hand around the hilt of the knife. He groaned as the knife came out slowly, its jagged blade deliberately designed to do more damage coming out than going in. It only took a few seconds, but the stab wound was gushing blood, and he could see the raw edges of his skin torn and blood around it. He let out a pained gasp as he dropped it to the floor.

  
There was one window in the office, and Benji knew it led four stories below to the main street. He stumbled over to it, reaching under his jacket to grab the thin wire that was wrapped there. His fingers fumbled over the window latches, leaving bloody smears. He managed to force it open, and he wrapped the wire around the desk. The other end he hooked onto his belt. He pulled himself over the window sill and tried not to scream as it jostled his injured leg. Slowly, one hand at a time, he lowered himself down the wire. It was wrapped around his forearms, and he wheezed through his broken nose at the sensation of holding up his weight. His fingers, still covered in blood, were slipping and he found himself sliding down faster than he would have liked. Halfway down, he heard noise from above him and looked up.

  
Werner was there, hair flying in the wind messily, with a pained look on his face. He was holding something out the window. With a start, Benji realized it was the bloody knife he had pulled out of his own thigh not minutes before. Benji unwrapped the wire from around his forearms and started to slide down faster. He felt the wire go slack in his hands a moment before he was falling two stories towards the ground.

  
He crashed into some shrubbery, his suit protecting most of skin from the impact, but it was still hard, and he screamed as his wounded thigh hit. He lay there for a moment, wheezing through his injured face, and then moved to push himself to his feet. As soon as he put weight on his left wrist, it buckled and a new streak of pain shot up his forearm. He whined, too drained to scream, and rolled to his other side. The urge to escape and training took over his pain. Just barely.

  
He stumbled across the street and fell into a motorcycle that was parked there. He fumbled in his pocket for his phone, and flipped out the attachment that would mimic a key. He jammed it into the ignition, and heard the motorcycle roar to life. Clutching one wrist against his stomach and with one leg dangling painfully almost completely off the motorcycle.

  
He drove slowly the few blocks to the safe house. He hadn’t been there before, and now that the immediate threat was over, he was starting to tip forward dangerously over the windshield of the motorcycle. He reached the address he’d memorized, not bothering to try and ditch the stolen motorcycle further away. He hobbled off, limping slowly. Thankfully at this late hour, there were only a few people out on the street, and most of them seemed drunk and from the way he was limping around clutching at his stomach, they probably thought him the same.

  
He stumbled up to the door and found a ratty-looking intercom placed on the wall next to it. He popped the face of it off, leaving more bloody smears as he did. Underneath was a high-tech looking scanner. He smacked his hand onto it, and after a moment a light turned green and he heard the door unlock. He fumbled it open, and there was a hallway ahead of him with two doors on either side. He started to go inside, but his limp leg tripped on the step and he pitched forward unable to stop himself.

  
He wheezed, laying on the carpet. He could still feel his thigh bleeding sluggishly under him. His wrist throbbed. His face ached and one eye had long since swollen shut with skin that felt tight and hot right under it. He moaned, but he didn’t have the strength to pull himself up again.  
This was fine. Maybe he wasn’t a good field agent after all. Maybe he was only good because Ethan was good. Not good, the best. Ethan was the best, so of course Benji was pulled along in his wake, like a minnow after a shark. Benji had just proven he couldn’t complete his own mission. Not within the parameters, and not without nearly killing himself. A muffled sob of pain and frustration escaped him into the carpet that was being steadily peppered with blood from his face. Maybe he’d be disavowed. Maybe he’d just die here, in this hallway. His vision was already starting to go dark around the edges, and he could hear his heartbeat in his ear.

  
Hands gripped his shoulders, flipping him over harshly and he moaned weakly. Someone’s face swam into his vision, but they looked blurry.   
“Benji? Talk to me Benji, tell me you’re alright.” It was a woman’s voice. One he knew. Fingers gently pressed his face, but it was still so painful. He moaned again. “Benji, hang in there, I’m calling Ethan.”

  
Benji was both relieved and terrified. Ethan was safety, Ethan was leadership. Ethan always knew how to fix a bad situation and make it right. But…Ethan would see his failure, would question putting him on his team again. What would Ethan say when he saw how badly Benji had flubbed this?

  
He heard the woman speaking again, but not to him. Her name came back to him in that instant. “Ilsa…” he moaned. She turned towards him and gave him a smile.

  
“That’s right Benji. Just hold on, okay?” He saw her put the phone down, and she leaned forward over his legs. “Ilsa…” he moaned again. But then she was pressing down on his thigh, tying something tightly around it, and he moaned weakly in pain again.

  
Ilsa muttered the occasional reassurance as she worked, but she mostly seemed focused on what she was doing. His mind was focused on the pain in his face, his leg, and his wrist. Everything felt tight and hot and he was dizzy and starting to tremble.

  
He heard a door open and footsteps rushed over. Ethan’s concerned face hovered in his vision.

  
“C’mon buddy, we’re gonna move you to a bed,” he said. He felt Ethan and Ilsa lift him up. They were trying to be gentle, but the pain of being jostled more was too much. Benji gave a weak gasp, and he was drifting.

* * *

 

  
Benji came back to awareness slowly. He was lying in a stiff bed, curtains drawn over the only window. Everything hurt. He slowly opened his eyes, and was dismayed to find he still couldn’t open one eye all the way. He reached up a hand towards his face.

  
Someone else’s hand gently grabbed his wrist. “Don’t do that,” Ethan said softly. “I just fixed your nose.” The other man was sitting in a chair beside Benji’s bed, now holding his wrist. Benji saw the wrist was encased in an air cast, and the skin under it was almost totally purple with bruising. Benji took a few harsh breaths through his mouth, still unable to breathe through his nose. He looked again at Ethan, who gave him another small smile. Ilsa was now standing in the doorway as well, and she also gave him a smile. Benji’s eyes darted back and forth between them, and Ethan let his wrist go.

  
“Hey, hey, easy now. Everything will heal and you’ll be fine,” said Ethan, mistaking the cause for his distress. “We got the list you managed to recover, everything’s fine.”

  
“Why are you here?” Benji demanded. His voice came out nasally and muffled. It would have been comical if Benji wasn’t covered in bruising and stab wounds and nursing broken bones.

  
Ethan’s brow drew together in that look that Benji recognized as general confusion. “We’re here to help you,” he said gently.

  
“No, why are you in Stockholm?” he ground out. “Both of you? This was…” he breathed in deeply through his mouth. “…a solo mission,” he ground out.

  
Ilsa and Ethan looked at each other, surprised by the unusually hostile tone coming from him, as well as his sudden adherence to protocol. Before Ethan could say something, Ilsa spoke up.

  
“Ethan and I were assigned to trail one of Werner’s contacts at the party. We knew there was an agent assigned to Werner. Our orders were only to follow the contact, and leave Werner to someone else. The IMF wants him alive.”

  
“We didn’t know it was you,” Ethan finished softly.

  
Benji turned his face away, trying to hide the now streaming tears of shame he felt at having to be rescued _again_ by Ethan and Ilsa, two agents far stronger and much more capable than him, when they weren’t even on a team together.

  
“We saw Werner’s team pick up suddenly in activity. Ethan stayed with our target, and I followed them. A few managed to follow you, but since they weren’t Werner, I took them out. I guessed where you had gone, but I didn’t know it was you until I found you.”

  
“Werner’s still alive,” Ethan added.

  
“God that doesn’t make me feel any better!” Benji suddenly snapped, flipping his head back around on the pillow to face them. “He’s seen my face, knows I stole something from him, and is now extra diligent about his watch, who he contacts and what deal he makes! I made everything worse, Ethan! And at the end of the day, you still had to come save me!” He was wheezing hard through his mouth, and he felt a warm trickle of blood beginning to run down his nose again. It ran into his mouth, and he spat on the sheets, too tired to sit up.

  
Ethan gave him a small disapproving look at that, but reached next to him where there was a clean towel. He handed it to Benji, who took it with his good hand and held it over his face.

  
“Benji…is that what you think happened?”

  
Benji pulled the towel down from his eyes. Ethan’s voice was low and dangerous. And when Benji looked at him he was still with that silent fury Ethan Hunt was infamous for, right before he exploded and all hell broke loose.

  
“Benji, I _never_ do missions alone. It’s because I need people I can count on behind me. Ilsa. Luther. Brandt. Carter. _You_ , Benji. There’s some things I can do on my own, but no plan survives first contact with the enemy. It’s why I have my _team_. They’re there to hold me up when things fail. Because things always fail. You know that better than almost anyone I’ve met.”

  
Benji nodded silent, not able to look at Ethan anymore.

  
“Someone failed _you_ , Benji. When they sent you in there by yourself. It’s amazing you are alive. Because you finished the mission and you also escaped with your life when many agents probably could not have. You’re an incredible agent. It’s why you’re on my team. You’re good at everything, and there’s things you’re better at than anyone else. Someone at IMF failed you because they didn’t realize how incredible you are.” Benji looked up when Ethan’s hand landed gently on his wrist. “Benji,  _I_ failed you when I let them.”

  
Benji felt tears welling up in his eyes again, and looked down as he lightly dabbed his face with the towel. He felt Ethan move his other hand so he was holding Benji’s between his own. “Benji, I’ve botched nearly every mission I’ve ever been on, and somehow I still have a job.” Benji gave a small painful snort of laughter, but Ethan’s next words were quieter. “What happened?”

  
“Werner woke up early,” he mumbled.

  
“That’s not what I meant.”

  
Benji drew in a shuddering breath, still unable to look at Ethan. “After Lane…” he felt Ethan’s hands tighten around his. “I needed…to see.”

  
Ilsa didn’t move, but he felt her stillness, watching him. The one other person that maybe fully understood what kind of man Lane was, how his attacks were personal.

  
Ethan just nodded, his jaw clenching as he was processing the information, waiting for Benji to go on.

  
“I needed…to know I can still do this.” He looked at Ethan then. It suddenly seemed so stupid given that Ethan had given up everything, watched so many people die in front of him. “It’s…it’s all I have. I can’t be scared of it,” he whispered.

  
“Were you? Scared tonight?”

  
Benji thought for a moment. “I was…nervous. But not scared,” he realized.

  
Ethan let go of his hands and pulled something out of his flash drive. “I’d say your mission was a success then. Now, I need you to unlock your encryption because I sure as hell can’t do it.”

  
Benji gave a relieved laugh that was also half a sob, and held up his wrist. “Then I need you to type because I can’t.”

  
Ethan leaned forward, and clapped his hand affectionately on Benji’s shoulder. “Deal. It’s good to have you back, Agent Dunn.”

  
He smiled. “Good to be back.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Meskeet as always for letting me bounce ideas off her even though this character's not so much her jam! Was proofread by me so mistakes are mine. I also wrote and published this on a tablet on vacation so doubly sorry for that, I don't usually do that. Please consider leaving a comment, they make me feel happy! As always I'm kickin around on Tumblr at redtigress dot tumblr dot com if you feel so inclined to come hang. Thanks for reading!


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